


Gotham and Me

by noconceptoflife



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: (at first), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dating, Dick Grayson is Robin, Identity Porn, M/M, Meet-Cute, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Clark Kent, Time Skips, the titles are clark's internet history
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23627005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noconceptoflife/pseuds/noconceptoflife
Summary: "I haven't been honest with you about a lot of my work." Bruce said. Clark already knew that but let him keep going. "I have to lie to you because of the nature of my job. I still swear I'm not doing anything that you'd disapprove of-" a truth "-and I swear I'm not in danger-" a lie "-but I can't tell you about it."It seemed Bruce couldn't tell him a lot of things.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 81





	Gotham and Me

**Author's Note:**

> No additional warnings this chapter, but so far I'm planning on quite a few chapters, and there will probably be smut later as it goes on so a warning there. 
> 
> Big thanks to my Beta-reader Isa <3

The Gotham City Star and The Daily Planet collaborated often, being across the bay from each other. They were both hot-spots full of influential people both good and bad, and their papers sold well in each other's cities. Clark Kent wasn't the best writer at the Planet, but he wrote well enough to keep his job secure and provide him ample opportunities to travel. Clark would then pass the opportunity on to someone else, because Clark had a niche and he needed to stay in it to avoid detection. That niche meant Metropolis news, world news, and the occasional Superman article at the same rate as everyone else.

Gotham wasn't too far from Metropolis, all things considering. It was a ride across the bay on a ferry, if one wasn't afraid of getting their ferry hijacked by some brightly costumed person in a boat. It happened enough that the ferry companies that went from Gotham to Metropolis had their own insurance for attacks of that nature. In all fairness, it had only happened seven times in the past ten years, but that was seven times too many. That wasn't why Clark was nervous, though. None of that would make him nervous, considering who he was. Clark was nervous because it was Batman's stomping grounds.

There was no reason to think Batman would know he was entering Gotham. So long as he kept his head down and didn't emerge as Superman at any point, he should be fine. That didn't stop him from being on edge. It was like every shadow would hold the masked man waiting to bully him out of Gotham again. Batman only came out during the day if there was something nasty going on. Allegedly. So he should be fine. Allegedly. Clark solved this problem by not going out at night, something reporters from other cities were already doing. He was content to hole up in his room and rub elbows with the other reporters staying in the same hotel.

The hotel he currently couldn't find.

It had been an honest accident. He'd gone out at five AM to try and get a better signal on his phone to call Lois and ask for her to fax him a file he left in Metropolis. He'd found a signal a block down the street and had her catch him up to speed, without even noticing that as they talked he kept walking. It was a nervous habit of his, to walk while talking on the phone. He would pace around his apartment or cubicle if he was in a phone call, and it was no different now. Ten minutes of conversation passed, and Clark hung up with no idea where he was.

So much for super-senses.

He could fly up and locate it that way, but he didn't want Batman trying to find him and kick him out of town while he still needed to be there for a few more days. Darn it, why didn't he think to memorize something about the hotel so he could track it down? 

The locals were not helpful. What was it with people from big cities not willing to show a bit of kindness? No one would meet his eye, and walked faster away if he tried to catch up with them. Then again, he was well over six feet tall with shoulders like a linebacker (not his own words) so it was understandable.

He ended up catching sight of a man in the nearby park. He was reading a newspaper as Clark approached, only letting his feet touch the ground enough to seem natural.

"Hello." Clark said. The man looked up, and Clark was able to get a better look at the man. He was just as handsome up close, and those blue eyes were blue, blue, blue, not even a different color around his iris. Clark cleared his throat. "I'm not from Gotham, and it seems like I've gotten lost, and nothing's open to give me directions. Can you help me out?"

"I can tell you're not from Gotham." The man said and folded the corner of his newspaper before laying it across his lap. "What are you doing wandering around at Six AM?"

"I- I'm a reporter from Metropolis and I'm doing a thing on Gotham and I called my friend, and I like to walk when I talk, and I got lost?" Clark supplied.

"I see." The man looked him up and down. "I wouldn't have thought Metropolis, but alright."

That was perplexing. "Uh? What do you mean?"

"You don't sound like Metropolis, and you don't dress or act like Gotham. No one in Gotham would wear a blue suit, either. It suits nothing in the scenery or local trends." He shrugged.

"That's- an interesting line of reasoning." Clark agreed.

"I read a lot of detective novels and am notoriously blunt. Don't be offended." He warned. Clark wasn't, but appreciated the disclaimer.

"Alright." Clark nodded.

The man scooted over. "Good, because I'm interested now. Have a seat. What's your name?"

"Oh, my name is Clark. Clark Kent." Clark extended his hand. Sitting down next to each other, Clark was taller, even slouched like he normally was.

"Bruce." The man shook his hand.

Clark spoke before he thought, as usual. "Like Bruce Wayne?"

"I get that a lot." Bruce said and dropped his hand, sparing Clark the mortification. "It's not an uncommon name. If anything, it makes me look nicer to share a name with Gotham's favorite son."

Clark tilted his head. "Is that a common saying?"

Bruce shrugged. "Can't throw a rock in Gotham without hitting something Wayne's got his foot in."

That seemed to be true, for the most part. Clark had seen the man's name on a lot of public buildings, and private buildings, and public spaces, and private spaces. "You know, I made a joke like that at my hotel." Clark said. "I asked if there was a single building in town without a shrine to the Waynes, and I was pointed to a framed picture of Martha Wayne on the wall! Apparently she hosted a few conventions there and paid for renovations every time."

Bruce huffed in surprise. "I see."

"I always remember her more than the others, since my mom shares a name with her." Clark said.

"That might be a good blurb in your little article." Bruce suggested.

It would, actually. Clark made a mental note for that. "Have you lived in Gotham all your life?"

"Yes." He said.

Clark perked up. "Then- could I ask you some questions about life here? I was going to find someone more official but you being an average citizen might work better."

Bruce took a moment to think, then shrugged and nodded.

Clark took out a notepad. "Got a pen?"

Bruce did have a pen, one that was Batman themed. He would have asked about it, but he was determined to get through this article without mentioning the vigilante.

Clark began. "So, what's the average Gotham citizen like?"

"There's two kinds of us, actually. Old and new blood, that's what separates us if you don't think about income or class. Old blood is people like me. My roots are here back to colonial time. This is home. Nothing can chase us out, no matter how many buildings are encased in ice. Then we have new blood, consisting of people from out of town moving in. Millennials, some older members of Generation-X."

"Millennials?" Clark asked. Clark braced himself for a talk about how the younger generation was ruining whatever industry today. But then, Bruce didn't look to be much older than him, and millennials weren't that much younger than the both of them.

"Yup." Bruce popped the p on the end. "Look at Gotham. What do you get when you get a very dangerous city that's also the center of one of the most charitable and infrastructure-focused companies in the world?"

Clark could already see where Bruce was going with this, but shrugged anyways.

"You get dirt-cheap rent, plenty of scholarships, and a source of employment with a lot of great benefits and never-ending work. Plus, the minimum wage here is designed to always be a living wage."

"I've never heard that." Clark was sure he would have known that. If anything he was surprised that Metropolis hadn't followed suit.

"It's only in Gotham, not the rest of New Jersey." Bruce clarified. "Plus the cost of living here is low, so it's not as stellar as you'd think."

"How does it not apply to the rest of the state?"

"As far as I understand the rest of the state wouldn't touch Gotham with a ten-foot pole if you paid them." Bruce shrugged. "Gotham might as well be a city-state with the way Wayne lobbies."

"Do you work for Wayne Enterprise?" Clark asked.

Bruce made another so-so gesture with his hand. "I work adjacent to Wayne industries. I do security, and sometimes it's for something Wayne has a hand in."

"Ever run into a rogue?" Clark asked.

"Yes, but I'd rather not talk about it." Bruce winced.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked.

The man fixed him with a look. He seemed thoughtful, and once again Clark was reminded that some might consider that overly-friendly. When he asked that he meant it, and wanted to know if this conversational stranger was okay. In whatever kind of okay the man thought Clark meant. Whatever okay applied to the man. Gotham really was a strange place, but Clark had gotten looks no matter where he went because of his over-friendly attitude. He didn't understand it. Sure, Clark was a big guy, but he liked to think he put his best foot forward and never, ever, meant to hurt or take advantage of anyone.

"Yeah. I'm okay." The man said after a moment. "You know? I actually don't think I've ever been better. I forget that, sometimes."

The silence continued for an uncomfortable minute before Clark spoke again, afraid to burst the positive bubble. "Do.... you have any family here?" Clark asked.

"I have a son." Bruce said. "And a godfather of sorts. My parents haven't been around for a while. My son's adopted, but he's still mine." His chin tilted up.

What he meant to ask was what it was like to raise a family in Gotham, but what came out was, "Are you a single father?"

The man paused, then his eyes flicked down to give Clark a once-over, slower and more obvious than before. "Yes." Bruce said. "There's no wife in the picture. Or any kind of partner."

Clark stared, panicking, trying not to get caught in the sudden light in the stranger's light blue eyes. "Right." Clark said. "Right, right, okay, what's it like raising a family in Gotham?"

"Hmm." The man said, and his eyes flicked over Clark again, settling finally on Clark's mouth, and  _ oh no.  _ "It's not hard for me, but I've got a good job and job security so whatever problems I have with my son I can fix, usually. My godfather is a big help, since he's still around. My situation isn't normal, so you should probably leave it out of whatever expose you're writing."

"It's pronounced ex-po-say." Clark said. “It’s got an accent on the last E. Exposé.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, thankfully resuming regular eye contact afterwards. "Alright newsboy, if you wanna continue this conversation you can buy me coffee. Like I said, I just got off work."

"If you want to ditch me I don't mind, this has already been a good talk." Clark reassured.

"Oh, no, this has been a great talk and I'd like to keep having it. I don't have anywhere to go until work again tonight, but I do want a coffee." He stood up and stretched. "Let me call my godfather so he can know not to expect me home right away."

"Does he live with you?" He asked.

Bruce snorted. "If anything, I live with him. That's a more personal story, though." He walked a few paces away and started dialing on his phone while Clark pretended not to listen to Bruce's side of the call.

"Hey." Bruce said into the phone. "I know I should be home by now, but I met someone and I'm going to be home later than expected."

Clark was able to pull his attention away from listening to the voice on the other side of the phone call, at least. It was as polite as he could be with his super-hearing.

"I'm not taking this one home." Bruce said into the phone, and Clark flushed. "No, he's some out-of-town journalist wanting to write an expose on Gotham and-"

A quick response.

"I know that’s not how it’s pronounced, alright? I know Gotham, and patrol yielded no trouble so I'm helping him out. Is Dick feeling better?"

Another reply.

"Okay, make sure he keeps ice on it and his foot propped up. If he's not walking by tonight then we'll take him to a doctor."

A final reply.

"Good, I'll see you later." and Bruce hung up.

Clark already learned a little more about this Bruce. His security work probably involved a lot of walking if he referred to it as a patrol. He took people home often enough for his godfather to comment on it. His son was named Dick and had some kind of recent foot injury. Strange, and domestic, and for a moment Clark was struck with a wave of pining. It was hard to shake off the longing for something simple and domestic where a son having a foot injury was a significant distraction.

"There's a good coffee joint not too far from here, if you don't mind all the coming and going of people heading to work." Bruce said to him.

Clark stood. He _ was _ taller than Bruce, but the other man walked like he was the toughest thing on the street. If Bruce had lived here all his life then he'd know it well, but Clark couldn't say he knew Smallville and it was a fraction of the size of Gotham. Maybe Bruce was an active person, or was as tough as he seemed.

"Gotham wasn't founded that long after the Europeans first got here, right?" Clark asked. "I can tell, kind of. These old-old cities, made back when horses with carts were the big thing. And then everything got changed during the industrial revolution, but before cars became more of a thing."

"It's why the traffic here is so shit." Bruce confirmed. "Don't ever drive here. The taxi drivers are unionized and there's a good subway system. That is, if you don't mind having to change your route all the time because someone decided to fill a tunnel with ice or whipped cream or thorny plants."

"Whipped cream?" Clark asked.

"I know!" Bruce said. "Whipped cream! You'd think The Joker would have something better to do than make whipped cream bombs. As it was, that tunnel still smells like rotten milk and sugar to this day."

"Do you work in the tunnels?" Clark asked.

"I've been down there a few times on security details."

"Are you like a bodyguard? Or do people just- have security everywhere in case someone decides to whip-cream your whole day?"

"That is my job in a few words, yeah." Bruce elbowed open the door to the coffee shop. The place smelled like coffee, of course, but also like deep-fried sugar and pie.

Bruce took over the ordering when they got to the counter. "I'll have a large Throat-Punch and a small funnel cake, and whatever Mister Metropolis here wants."

"What's a Throat-Punch?" Clark asked.

"I don't know what they put in it but it's like getting kicked in the chest. I love it." Bruce said.

"What do they have that's mild?" He asked. "I try not to drink too much coffee."

"Alright, Mister Metropolis will get a Vanilla Latte, large." Bruce went for his wallet and counted out a twenty. "And he'll get a strawberry scone."

"I don't need a scone." Clark interrupted.

"Are you allergic to anything that might be in a strawberry scone?" Bruce asked.

"No, but-"

"Do you not like strawberries or scones?"

"I like them fine-"

"Then you're getting a strawberry scone. They're great here."

Clark blew an annoyed huff of air out of his nose. "Fine! But let me pay. You did say you wanted me to buy you coffee to continue this talk, didn't you?"

Bruce gave him another considering look, but shrugged and took a step back. The seventeen dollars for everything did make Clark wince, but he'd find a way to work it out of his budget. Clark didn't miss Bruce stuffing his twenty into the tip jar as he got them a seat in a shadowy corner of the store but Clark wouldn't argue that. Bruce was certainly a character, one that Clark wouldn't mind getting to know on a better basis.

He gathered their food and coffee and joined Bruce in the corner booth. and it wasn't a tight fit for him which was rare. The coffee was good, and the strawberry scone was delicious.

Clark already had some questions in mind. "Do you mind if we jump into questions, then?"

"Go ahead." Bruce said and took a long drink from his coffee.

"Growing up here, what sets a native of Gotham apart from a denizen of any other city?" Clark asked.

"That's a good word. Denizen." Bruce mused. "Gotham is a labyrinth, but it's home, and it takes grit to stay. There's something in every corner, every house, every stepping stone in the old cobble roads. It's all layers within layers and worlds within worlds, but it's all hard. One person from a corner of Gotham is going to be different from someone on another corner, but we're united by the grit that it takes to live here. For every person you get opening their door to their fellow man, you get another closing that door tight to protect what's his. We all find our ways."

"That sounded rehearsed." Clark said.

"When I took English my Junior year of high school we had an essay project that asked the same question." Bruce admitted.

"And what did you get on it?"

"A nice solid B, I'll have you know." Bruce said. "But it was a day late and it would have gotten an A otherwise if not for the ten percent being docked off."

It would still be a good quote, so Clark wrote it down. "Alright, you said you didn't want to talk about your own run-in, but with the rogue gallery here, what's it like living with them running loose?"

"Exciting, if you use the definition of the word." Bruce said. "But sad, too. Arkham's revolving door never really stops, and no matter how much money gets pumped into it nothing seems to happen. I feel bad for most of them, but then they can do anything from ruin my commute to work or poison a whole warehouse full of people who then laugh themselves into a coma. It's complex."

Clark nodded. "And what do you think of the police, in Gotham?"

"The commissioner is a good man, but I'm half-convinced he's the only one who really cares." Bruce shrugged.

"What's that mean?" Clark asked. "Like other cops don't care?"

Bruce made a so-so gesture with his hand. "People like to say it started with the Waynes, but in reality that made people aware of the rampant corruption of the police here in Gotham. It's just the Waynes have enough money they could pack their mansion with hundred dollar bills and they got gunned down by a thug. What's that say about the police, then?"

Clark thought about all the times he'd gone somewhere as Superman and the response of the local police was to empty entire magazines of bullets into him for it. He hummed and nodded. "I might rephrase that a bit. My boss doesn't like it when I get too political."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "That's idiotic."

Clark hummed again instead of agreeing. "Hey, what's your last name?"

"Huh?" Bruce asked.

"Like there's Bruce Wayne, and Bruce, but what's your last name?"

Bruce blinked at him, but after a second seemed to get what he meant. "Oh, it's Thomas."

"Bruce Thomas." Clark said. "That's a nice name."

"Thank you, my parents picked it."

Clark snorted. "Right, so, any other notes you'd like to make? Anecdotes? Observations?"

"Considering how long we've been talking, I would have thought you'd ask about Batman." Bruce said.

Clark sighed at that. Batman. Right. "I wish that I didn't need to. Everyone knows the same things about him, and I've read the same story about him a dozen times. I'm here to talk about the average Gothamite by the point of view of a Metropolis reporter."

"I forget we're called Gothamites. Are you a Metropolitan? Is that the right word?" Bruce asked.

"I haven't been in Metropolis that long." Clark said. "If I'm anything I'm a Kansan pretending to be a Metropolitan."

"So Metropolitan _ is _ the right word?" Bruce asked again.

"Oh, yeah, right. Anyways, I figure you have the same thing to say about Batman as anyone else does." Clark waved a hand.

"A lot of people outside of Gotham don't think he's real." Bruce said. "You seem to think he's real, though."

"He's real enough for me to not care for him, myself." Clark shrugged.

"Why?" Bruce asked. With the way his fingers tightened Clark got the feeling this was a touchy subject.

"He's mean." Clark said.

Bruce's fingers relaxed on his cup, and his face was an expression of pure blank shock. "What?"

Honesty was the best policy, after all. "He seems unpleasant, uncooperative, and the way he treats Superman is unfair on top of-" Bruce made a sound like he was being choked, but with his watering eyes and the hand pressed to his mouth Clark knew he was trying not to laugh. "I am being one hundred percent serious! If Batman is mean-spirited then I don't see how he can- I promise I'm not trying to be funny."

Bruce didn't seem to care if Clark was trying or not, because Bruce leaned over the table, his head down and back shaking with the kind of full-body laughter that left him breathless and wheezing. Clark grumbled and sipped at his coffee while Bruce tried to compose himself for three minutes. Clark knew it was three minutes because he timed it. It seemed like Bruce might also be mean-spirited, but he had a nice enough laugh that Clark could ignore it.

In time Bruce composed himself, and wiped his eyes with an offered napkin. "I'm sorry." Bruce lied, because he wasn't sorry at all. "That's the mildest opinion I've ever heard someone have of Batman. Mean? You think he's  _ mean _ and that's why you don't like him?"

"I'm not against heroes." Clark said.

"Batman's a vigilante and doesn't give a damn about the law, is that heroic to you?" Bruce asked.

"He could stand to be nicer and more cooperative, but Batman does what a lot of people refuse to do." Clark said, and he meant it. "I like Superman, too, you know."

Bruce nodded at that. "I feel the exact same way."

"But you just-"

"That was a test." Bruce interrupted him. "I like Batman too. I don't know how to feel about Superman."

"Why's that?"

Clark was not prepared for the following conversation in which Bruce outlined things Clark hadn't even considered. Most people were under the impression that Superman was it, and that when he wasn't taking a special interest in Metropolis or helping around the world then he was at the Fortress of Solitude. Bruce was under the same impression but had other concerns. Concerns like what alien technology Superman might have, or if he was too kind for his own good. Then there was the question of other heroes, and if Superman could be a friend or foe to people who might disagree with him.

"I don't know why he's so fixated on Metropolis, either." Bruce said. "Does he have a girlfriend there? An interest in the scientific center? Is he in the city's pocket, or are they in his? It all seems too perfect for Metropolis to be where Superman hangs his hat."

Clark thought about the little fern on the patio at his apartment and how it needed to be watered every other day. "Mm." Clark said. "Is it too much to hope he might like the city and want it's people to be safe?"

Bruce's mouth twisted. "Yes."

This was such a nice conversation.

Clark thought for a bit as Bruce finished off his funnel cake and the conversation turned around. Clark kept up with it, but his mind was elsewhere at the same time.

He felt like this was profound. There was something about running into a person like Bruce. Something about the electric feeling he kept feeling every time Bruce met his eyes. Something about the chemistry that had them exchanging quips and comments that brought little snorts and thoughtful nods. Something about Bruce. It was something he couldn't put into words, but that he liked a lot. He liked Bruce a lot.

"Would you like my number?" Clark blurted, interrupting Bruce's description of Gotham's sewer system. 

Bruce looked surprised and then composed in a little less than a second. He took a final sip of his coffee and gave Clark an appraising look. "To what end?"

Already this didn't spell success for him, but Clark swallowed. "This conversation is nice. I have friends but I- I might be too forward here, but I really feel a connection. If I'm creeping you out with that I understand but- I-"

"You said you're from Kansas, yes?"

Clark nodded.

"It shows. I'm getting mixed signals. I think I was pretty obviously flirting with you but I dropped it when you weren't flirting back." Bruce said.

Clark felt his face flame up. "Obvious to you maybe, but not to me."

"Either way, you're saying something now, which makes me think you're seeking a romantic connection." Bruce traced his finger through the powdered sugar of his funnel cake leavings and brought it to his mouth to taste. There was nothing calculated in it, no kind of seduction or innuendo, but Clark still focused on it hard enough to see the ridges of Bruce's fingerprint.

Clark tugged at his collar. "I was only going to propose that if I thought  _ you _ were receptive to it."

"Have you ever been in a relationship with a man?"

"No."

"Any relationship at all?"

"I've had a- I've had girlfriends." Clark said.

"Mm." Bruce said. "I'll be honest, Clark. Between work and my recently adopted son and my job I don't know if that will work."

"I'm flexible." Clark said. "I really like you."

Bruce's eyes softened at that and considered Clark for a moment while taking another swipe of sugar on his finger. Clark waited, fingers digging into his palms hard enough that it would go right though the table if he was using that instead.

"Alright." Bruce said. "We'll see how it goes."

Clark scribbled his number too fast. Not too fast as in it might give away his super-speed but too fast in that he was sure he looked over-eager. "Once again, if you change your mind and decide you don't like me I'll be fine with that if you- let me know at least? You don't have to-"

Bruce plucked the paper from his hands. "You're too handsome to be second-guessing yourself like this, Clark."

Clark's smile was sheepish. "Can you blame me?"

"No." Bruce said. "I'll call soon and we can figure out when we can next meet up. We'll say this is the first date."

Clark wasn't sure why Bruce specified that, but he left the coffee shop feeling better than he had the entire time being in Gotham. He was sure when he went back and told Lois she would give him a hard time about leaving Metropolis for the first time in months and coming back with a date. After his coffee with Bruce he could see the appeal in Gotham now, with its ornate stone and winding roads and preserved buildings. It wasn't like the grid-structure of Metropolis with it's shining steel and glass, but he could see how one could call it home like Bruce did.

It was when he was five blocks away from the cafe, and back in the park where he met Bruce that he realized he still had no idea how to get back to his hotel.

  
  



End file.
